


Do Me A Favour

by orphan_account



Category: The Danish Girl - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, akawjdiijojwjkd, i cant write, kill me, the danish girl - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-15 03:20:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9216359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: This is what I do in my freetime rip and the title is absolute shittttt but i needed one sooooo





	

You can do this, he thought to himself. You can do this. He grasped the rope in his left hand and stepped onto the short stool underneath it. He slid his head inside the small loop of the rope, tightened it to fit snugly around his neck, then stepped down from the stool.  
•••  
“Einar, I'm home!” Gerda hollered when she stepped through the door of the apartment. “Einar where are you? Is Lili here?” But the questioned answered itself; there Einar lay, on the floor of the small bedroom, dead—or so Gerda thought. 

She stared down at the seemingly lifeless body of her husband, her mind flooding with questions. She hadn't yet noticed the rope around his neck or the hole in the ceiling— she had only noticed him, lying in the center of the room, cold and white. 

Panic filling her body , Gerda swept from the room and back out the front door. She quickly made her way to the phone booth at the end of the street, pushing past the small crowd of people in front of it. 

“I need to call now! Please!” She cried as she ripped open the door to the booth, inside which a tall blonde man was holding the phone. 

“Pardon me, madame,” the man said which a slight french accent. “But you must wait for me to finish my call.” 

“No, you don't understand—” 

“I do understand! You cannot just force your way to use ze phone!”

“I need to call the police immediately! My husband—he’s not well and—please, sir, he’s just died. 

“Your husband ‘as died?” 

“Yes—just please, let me use the phone!” 

“Go ahead, madame. I am so sorry to have been in your way.” He handed her the phone, before swiftly leaving the booth . 

Gerda fleetly seized her calling card from her pocket and shoved it into the machine. Immediately, she dialed the appropriate number for the police station, and waited impatiently for someone to answer. 

“Copenhagen Police Station, what is your emergency?” A voice responded. 

“My– my husband has died” Gerda shrieked into the phone. 

“What is your name?”

“Wegener. Gerda Wegener.”

“And what is your location?”

“Nyboder.” She replied, making every attempt to calm down. 

“Thank you. Officers will be sent to investigate the scene promptly.” 

Gerda muttered a shaky “thank you” before ending the call and stepping out from the booth. Her eyes drifted up from her feet to meet the frenchman’s, filling with tears. 

“What do zey call you, mademoiselle?” He asked her, grabbing hold of her forearm to prevent her from leaving. 

“Please let go of me, I need to go home—”

“Just answer me, madame. What is your name?”

“Gerda Wegener.” She stated, slipping free of his grasp. 

“Ze painter?”

“Y–yes.”

“And your husband?” 

“His name is Einar.” She answered him, feeling several tears glide down her cheeks.

“Einar Wegener?”

“Do you know him?”

“Oui. We were friends as children. Very good friends, actually. We used to play around Nyhavn. All ze locals hated us,” the man chuckled, following Gerda as she walked towards her house. “He was a charming boy, but ‘is father, ‘is father was another story. ”

“Einar never speaks to me of his childhood. He only ever mentions his art and his,” Gerda paused, more tears falling from her eyes, “his condition. Well, I wouldn’t really consider it a condition.” 

“Condition?” The man questioned. “ ‘E had a condition?” 

“No– I mean yes, but—it–it isn't a condition. We still haven't learned what it is. All the doctors claim him to be insane—”

“And do you believe zem?”

“Of course not! My husband is not insane. He’s just, well, different.”

“Lili,” the man whispered.

“Pardon me?”

“Lili.”

“You knew her too?” Gerda questioned, not realizing that she had stopped crying. 

“Oh, most definitely!”

“I–I didn’t know she existed that long ago. Who are you, if you don't mind me asking?” 

“Hans Axgil. And yes, she existed. She's existed as long as Einar ‘as!” 

“He didn’t tell me until quite recently.” Gerda spoke, her eyes drifting back to her feet.”I-I’d better go home. I must be there to wait for the officers. Good day to you, Monsieur Axgil.” She quickly turned away, ignoring Hans’ sincere farewell. 

•••

“Einer! Einar, where have you gone?” Gerda yelled through the quiet house, after noticing that the spot where his body had lay minutes ago was now clear and bare. “Lil–Einar! Please—where are you?” 

A low mumble was heard from the corner of the bedroom, where Gerda stood in the doorway. 

“Einar,” Gerda muttered to herself as she stared at the limp man in the corner. “Y–you aren't dead.”

**Author's Note:**

> thissssssssssss chapter is very unfinished and its got a super shit ending but i needed to end it please just kill me  
> also the spacing and italics got really fucked up so sorry bout that


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